The Truth About San Diego
Dirk Deppy’s ¡Journalista! opens today with the following quote:
San Diego Mayor Jerry Sanders, looking forward to American Idol.
Mr. Sanders is an asshole.
While in San Diego last week, ComicMix podcast producer Mike Raub and I did a quick estimate on the minimum amount of cash the San Diego Comic-Con pumped into the local economy. With 140,000 in attendance, most of whom staying in hotels, using taxis and public transportation, going to parties, using convention facilities, doing a bit of shopping, paying local and state taxes and dining at local restaurants during the four day show, we estimate comics fans spent a minimum of an eighth of a billion dollars in Mr. Sanders’ town – and most likely more than twice that.
What did we get for our money, outside of the Comic-Con itself? Hotel service that was indifferent at best (hotels were sold out; some folks had to commute in from damn near the Mexican border), and lousy restaurant food with incredibly rotten service. I go to over a half-dozen conventions each year, and never was I treated worse than I was in San Diego last week. Mr. Sanders’ city simply sucks.
Then again, if Sanders thinks American Idol candidates have "actual talent," his head’s so far up his ass he probably thinks the food at the Blarney Stone smells good.


I’ve seen the Spirit of San Diego, and it’s wearing a costume.
And you pose for pictures.
After a while you realize that no one human can know all these characters. After a longer while you start seeing costumes when all the person is is extremely stylish. I saw a guy in backwoods hippie gear and was thinking maybe Hillbilly Bears when I realized this is just how he walks the streets everyday. I asked a woman to pose, thinking her outfit was something from Sandman but she was just a very happening goth chick. And, like a true Shipoopi, she doesn’t get sore if you beg her pardon.
People keep talking, and we keep taking notes…
Can we hear anything over this much hubbub? Of course we can… and our spies are everywhere.
Waiting for a trolley: "I’m so glad, I just found out that Lucy Lawless is going to be here on Sunday. I hope I get to show her my tattoo!" And in case she doesn’t get a chance, everybody else can see it here.
ICv2
It’s the day before the biggest convention in an American comic fan’s year — the San Diego Comic-Con International. Just about every one of my ComicMix colleagues is heading out there. (Don’t ask me how they got hotel rooms, it’s still a mystery to me.) I’m not. My boss told me a long time ago that I can’t go on vacation when he’s in the country (yes I know, but it’s still better than being unemployed and sans health insurance), and even if I could I just don’t think I could work up the enthusiasm any more for something so expensive and exhausting. The closer I get to pushing 50, the more 50 pushes back harder.
